


4play

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:39:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave doesn’t lose often, but when he does lose, he loses hard. Good thing Bro’s a somewhat good sport about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4play

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think John was having an asthma attack. 

 

Of course, you’re perfectly aware that he’s not actually having one because he _doesn’t_ have asthma. But you hear him breathing, his breaths shallow, gasping and moaning while the back of his shoulders press firmly against yours. 

 

“Get a flipping hold of yourself,” you hear English murmur against John’s ear. “You don’t want those bloody Striders to win, do you, John?”

 

John whimpers behind you and although you’re competing against him at the moment, you actually pity him. 

 

_You know exactly how he feels._

 

“Dave.”

 

You raise your head from its lowered position and stare up at your Bro. He leans forward and brings his hand to your face. His palm is warm against your cheek and he glides it toward your mouth, his touch warming your skin inch by inch. Fingers curled, he grazes his thumb across your lips, and you kiss his calloused fingertip. 

 

When he tilts your head to the side, latches his mouth onto your earlobe, and bites down, you cry out and attempt tangle your fingers in his hair. You can’t, of course, because your arms are wrapped around the back of the chair, wrists bound together by rope that scratches and chafes your skin. 

 

The carpet is soft against the soles of your feet and you move them back and forth, your heels bumping against the legs of the chair that you’re currently tied to. The same type of rope keeping your wrists together is also wrapped around your legs, it’s rough surface digging into the back of your calves. 

 

“Focus,” Bro whispers against your ear, and you wonder just how the fuck you’re supposed to do that. 

 

John brushes his fingers against yours and you’d really like to hold his hand, but his are bound together much like your own. You try your hardest not to get too turned on by the way he moans out English’s name because that will just make things difficult for you sooner rather than later, and you know Bro will never let you live it down if you lose tonight. 

 

Bro lowers his mouth to your neck and gently bites down, teeth tugging pale skin at the junction where your neck and shoulder meet. You cry out softly and he swirls his tongue over the spot, soothing it. You can imagine how it looks, teeth marks, reddened skin, a temporary tattoo of sorts, which will later on remind you of all the perverted things you do behind closed doors. 

 

_Not that you actually needed reminding._

 

You don’t focus too long on Bro sucking at your neck and shoulder because English distracts you by sliding his mouth around your cock and now all you can think about is how warm and wet his mouth is. He pulls back far enough to let your cock slip out of his mouth, but he wraps his hand firmly around the base, and whispers something that you can’t hear. 

 

“What?” You say, but he doesn’t reply, only grins and winks at you before lowering his head and taking your _entire_ dick down his throat. 

 

Of course, your natural reaction is to shout and grip his hair, but that rope doesn’t fucking budge, so you have no choice but to sit there, moaning and gasping as Jake-motherfucking-English deepthroats you while your Bro watches and your best friend--who is also your boyfriend--listens. 

 

It doesn’t matter how much you try to squeeze your thighs shut, or how your legs seem to have a mind of their own, struggling to break free from their bindings, coarse rope painfully digging into your shins. English won’t let up, he knows what this does to you, knows that you’ve never really been able to handle it, no matter how much you try. It’s Bro’s fault, really. He _taught_ English how to deepthroat. 

 

He taught _all_ of you. 

 

It’s almost too much. You don’t know what time the four of you started this game, but you do know that Bro and English have had you edging ever since Bro suggested it. English’s mouth is hot and perfect and when you squeeze your eyes shut, you think about how incredible it’ll feel to cum into it. 

 

But his mouth is gone before that can happen and your Bro’s mouth takes its place. 

 

And then English’s. 

 

And then Bro’s again. 

 

And you can’t fucking take it. 

 

You’re to the point where you’re ready to beg for them to just let you cum, to stop all of this fucking delicious torture, but you can’t bring your mouth to form the words. You’re too busy moaning and crying out, whimpering and gripping John’s fingers as you attempt to buck your hips up, wanting to shove your cock deeper down Bro’s throat and just _burst_. 

 

And then they’re both gone, leaving you panting with your dick coated in saliva, practically glistening from the ceiling lights. 

They’re back over with John now and you wish you could see them. You love watching him shudder from their touches, love hearing him gasp and moan and softly beg them to stop and keep going. He’s always been overly talkative, but he’s so quiet when it comes to stuff like this. You like to hear him, like to know you’re doing a good job of making him feel good. 

 

You want him to tell you what to do, to order you around, _to demand you_. 

 

“Oh, god...” John’s head falls back against yours and you hear him moan your Bro’s name and you wonder if it’s possible to be turned on, envious, and jealous all at the same time, but English begins to speak, which means that Bro must be bobbing his head up and down in John’s lap and you hope against all hopes that John isn’t able to withstand it for very long. 

 

You convince yourself to focus on the conversation taking place around you rather than the wet sounds of Bro sucking off your boyfriend while your own cock strains and twitches for any type of friction available. 

 

“Fuck, I...ah...c-can’t,” John says and you’re positively fucking thrilled to hear that.

 

_You’ve almost got this thing won._

 

“Malarky,” Jake says, and it’s such a stupid word to be saying at a time like this, but somehow he makes it sounds incredibly erotic. “If you give up now, those insufferable Striders will win.” You know English is taunting both you and Bro. You don’t particularly care, but judging by the way John cries out and rocks back against his chair hard enough to move _your_ chair forward, you’d guess that he’s taken a mild offense to that. 

 

“I don’t... haa... I don’t care,” John says. “I don’t care if we lose. Just let me cum. P-Pleeeease.” 

 

And now you wish you could cover your ears because even though you’d love to hear John being both assertive and aggressive and belting out demands, hearing him come apart and beg is just as good.

 

“So you want to cum, do you, old sport?” English replies, and you fucking swear if you could bottle up his voice it’d be chocolate wrapped in silk, the stuff that chicks would dig, and also your Bro, which is kind of funny and if you weren’t so fucking horny, you’d probably be laughing. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“In his mouth?”

 

“Yes,” John breathes out, hissing at the end of the word and you shift awkwardly because this is turning you on too much and you’re not going to last long at all when it’s your turn again if you don’t get things under control. 

 

“Say it, Johnny-boy,” English purrs. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

 

“I want,” John begins, his voice rough and raspy, “to cum in his mouth. I want him to fucking swallow it.”

 

_Oh god._

 

And that was hot, _really_ hot. 

 

And this is bad, _extremely_ bad. 

 

You’ve been practicing how to do this ever since you found out what it was and all but one of your efforts have been failures, so why, why, _why_ does your body decide that now would be the perfect time for it to happen?

 

“What if he chokes?” English asks and you shake your head, hoping that John doesn’t reply, hoping that Bro just fucking makes him cum already. 

 

“Good,” John pants out. “Fucking gag on my cock.”

 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan and shut your eyes. Your legs shake against the chair, the rope continues to dig into you, but the pain isn’t enough to distract you. You try to think about horrible things, roadkill, destruction, and death, but it’s still not enough. 

 

_You actually consider praying._

 

But that’s dumb because there’s nothing, _no one_ , to pray to and even if there was, you’re pretty sure that having foursomes with your brother, his boyfriend, and your boyfriend pretty much keeps you on the permanently ignore list. 

 

_You just need to focus._

 

You need to breathe, deep breaths, in and out, in and out, you can get over this. You can still win if you just--

 

“Dave.” Bro calls your name and puts his hand on your thigh and you’re done. You lose it. 

 

_Fucking. Game. Over._

 

You entire body tenses, muscles stiffening, legs aching from the rope nearly cutting into your skin as your hips forcibly jerk forward and you cum hard, spilling, _squirting_ from nothing more than the sound of John’s voice and your Bro’s barely there touch. 

 

_You don’t think you’ll ever stop._

 

But you do, of course, and when that moment comes, still shuddering from the aftershocks, you look up at your Bro, unable to do anything but stare into his eyes, invisible shame written all over your face. 

 

“...Dude.”

 

“Sorry...” You apologize. 

 

_You owe him that much._

 

“Gadzooks, Dave, I didn’t know you could do that,” Jake says from behind you and you wonder how he can go from _just sexy_ to _just stop it_ in a matter of seconds. 

 

“Me neither,” Bro and John say in unison. 

 

“Something for us to have a gentlemanly discussion over later,” English says. “For now, I believe a certain fair-haired chum has a bit of conceding to do.”

 

Bro is still staring at you and you hang your head, the weight of your shame invisibly making it impossible to keep it upright. 

 

“Real smooth, Dave,” Bro finally says and he bends down in front of you and unties your legs. Carefully, he helps you maneuver your arms up and around the back of the chair without having to actually untie your wrists. 

 

Bro makes you stand still while he bends down yet again to retrieve a tube of lube that he and English will be putting to good use in a few minutes. He pops open the cap and straight up pours it all over John’s cock who gasps and squirms from the undoubtedly coldness of it. He then unties Johns hands and shoves you over toward him. 

 

John rubs his wrists with his hands and smirks up at you before motioning with his fingers for you to turn around. 

 

_You already know where this is going._

 

You turn around and instantly feel John’s hands on your waist. He lowers you down, guiding your hips so that you slowly ease down on his cock. 

 

He cums three seconds later, nails digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises. 

 

“Really?” You say. 

 

He buries his face against your back and groans. “Not my f-fault.”

 

“On your knees, Strider.”

 

The two of you bring your attention to English and Bro, who is standing in front of English, arms crossed, weight shifted to one foot as if he isn’t the loser of tonight’s game. He lowers himself to the floor, both knees pressed against the plush carpet and stares up expectantly. English smirks at him and grabs him by his hair, jerking his head forward. With his other hand, he easily unzips his shorts and pulls his cock out through the opening. 

 

“Suck.”

 

Bro licks his lips and willingly complies and you and John both groan at the sight. 

 

English bucks his hips and Bro gags, jerks back, and the look on his face tells you that English is fucking in for it. When Bro slides his mouth down English’s cock again, he brings his hands up behind him, squeezing his ass and forcing him forward, holding him in place. 

 

You watch, excited and amused by the way English struggles, hand gripping and pulling at Bro’s hair. 

 

“Fuck, Dirk,” English gasps. “Don’t be...ahh...a flipping...christ... sore loser.”

 

Eventually Bro has to pull back for air and English steps back before Bro can take advantage of the situation again. “Turn around,” English says. “And be a stand-up chum and lose the duds.”

 

English is really laying it on thick and Bro takes a second to glare in your direction before he pulls off his pants and throws them at your face. It takes merely a few seconds for English to reach down, grab the same tube of lube that Bro used on John, and slather his own cock with it. 

 

“Righto then,” English says and pushes Bro’s head down to the floor. He then grabs both of Bro’s arms and pins his wrists behind his back. “Ah, perfect.”

 

English slams into Bro over and over again, his hips thrusting, hand releasing one of Bro’s wrists to smack Bro’s ass. 

 

_Bro is fucking losing his mind._

 

Spurred on by English, you listen as Bro moans and swears, demands more, and promises payback to everyone in the room. 

 

_Bro always keeps his promises._

 

All too soon it’s over and English is cumming and Bro is cumming and you’re feeling like you could possibly cum again, but you won’t because you’d end up crying and that would be an awful fucking sight to see. 

 

After the four of you are all cleaned up and temporarily sated, you’re forced to squeeze onto the couch and watch movies, _stupid_ movies. 

 

Like _Weekend at Bernie’s_. 

 

“I’m only watching this until Jake falls asleep,” You say. “Or someone suffocates him with a pillow, whichever comes first.”

 

“Comes first,” Bro repeats. “You mean like you?” 

 

You open your mouth to reply, but find you don’t have anything to soothe that scorching ass burn, so instead you stare at the television screen and try to pretend you’d rather be anywhere else--but when John puts his arm around you, and Bro gently nudges his head with your own, and English pats your thigh--you realize that you’re doing an awful job of that, too. 

 

_You suppose being the loser isn’t all that bad._

 

Besides, between the four of you, someone’s bound to hit the reset button _real_ soon. 

 

 

 

**Play Again?**


End file.
